


Masquerading

by Entwinedlove



Series: The Great October Challenge 2017 [23]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-08-09 22:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwinedlove/pseuds/Entwinedlove
Summary: Two former Death Eaters are drawn to someone new at a masquerade.





	Masquerading

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ordinary Writing Levels's 31 Days of Halloween  
> day 8 prompt: masks
> 
> [ ](https://i.imgur.com/PlhKbIz.jpg)

Rabastan wondered how horrible a social disgrace it would be to wear his Death Eater mask and robes to the Masquerade Gala being hosted at St Mungo's. He'd received the invitation on one of his good days and RSVP'd that he would attend but now as the day crept closer, he was feeling more and more reluctant to rub shoulders with... well, everyone.

He was sure the busybodies in charge of the event were either members of the Order of the Phoenix or associates and he'd seen enough of them at his parole hearing back in May. Ten more years in Azkaban, he'd served. Ten.

Spending over half his life and most of his prime years in prison had not been his goal in life when he'd left Hogwarts. What he'd envisioned had been prestige even as a second son and maybe a wife. Someone who he could love and would love him in return. It hadn't sounded so unattainable when he was a much younger man.

He sighed. If he still wanted anything remotely close to that he would need to mingle with people, and perhaps this Masquerade was just the thing. He felt a sharp pain in his temple as less than pure thoughts passed through his mind about drugging and abducting a woman from the party. He winced and bared his teeth, hating the pseudo-mind-control spells he'd been placed under as part of his parole. Just because he thought these things didn't mean he would act on them. Everyone has bad thoughts once in a while. He tried to imagine fluffy kittens and puppies to try and ease the pain.

In the end, he decided to create a mask in the shape of a raven's beak and he added an iridescent sheen to a set of formal black robes. He added raven feathers around the back of his collar and chose one of the fluffier knots for his black cravat to imitate the chest ruff.

He allowed the Portkey to take him to the entrance of the hall that was being used for the Gala. He allowed himself to be submitted to a set of security spells to prove that he had been invited, wasn't under now-illegal Polyjuice Potion, and wasn't under the Imperius Curse. The last one flagged a shocking orange colour and the boy doing the scans had to ask him to stand to the side for a moment. The boy darted off and came back with an Auror in red robes.

"Sir, if you'll come with me please," the Auror said.

"Would it help if I told you that the spells your ilk put on me at my parole were what was flagging his Imperius check?" Rabastan asked, sounding ridiculously bored.

"Oh. Yes, that. That would explain it," he turned to the boy doing the scans. "If that was all that was flagged he should be free to enter."

Rabastan was gestured to enter the room and noticed how crowded it seemed. His gaze swept over the crowd searching out familiar body shapes and heights the same way he would do at meetings with the Dark Lord. He recognised one. Dolohov. Rabastan's brow furrowed as he looked in the direction Dolohov was staring.

On a dais chatting with a musician was a woman. Her dress was gold and cream and it sparkled in the thousands of candles that illuminated the ballroom. She wore elbow length gloves but her neck and shoulders were bare, showing inches of creamy, unblemished skin that shimmered like she'd been dusted with gold. She was masked, of course, but it cut away over her mouth so he could see kissable red lips. Her hair was sleek and in an intricate looking golden cage. 

Rabastan made his way to Dolohov and greeted him in a quiet voice.

The older man turned his head to get a better gauge of who was addressing him. When recognition dawned he addressed him just as softly. "Lestrange."

"Who's the girl?" Rabastan asked, turning to face the beauty halfway across the room. She glided rather than walked as she moved down the stairs to mingle with the guests. She was average in height, probably shorter barefooted, and shapely. Her body looked luscious and ripe. Well-rounded curves teased him as her gown swayed with every step she took. He imagined what it would be like to press her against the wall and fuck her hard; he wanted to feel the swell of her hips and breasts through the glimmering fabric. He was surprised when the altered Imperius on his mind didn't cause him pain.

"Hermione Granger," Dolohov said as he too turned and gazed back at the woman.

Behind his mask, Rabastan's eyebrows raised.


End file.
